


Red

by isaaclahey



Series: Deputy Banshee AUs [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Involves Allison's death, Post 3 x23, because I hate myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:52:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaaclahey/pseuds/isaaclahey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmates bring a world of color Marrish AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this thing I made ](http://jordamnparrish.tumblr.com/post/93641133044/lydia-your-hair-he-said-in-a-hushed-tone-the) and the AU that's been going around tumblr. Also, with these two having such vibrant colors attached to their physicality it just had to happen. 
> 
> Written at 4 am. No beta.

Lydia had felt it. Her death. _Allison._

 

It was a gut feeling. As if all the butterflies of anxiety were mauled by snakes and ripped through her body, painful, angry, sad. She never just felt them die. She felt what they felt. She saw what they saw. The more in tune she became. The more focused she was forced to be. The closer to the nogistune she was—the more chaos she saw.

 

“Lydia,” Scott’s voice brought her from the horror. It didn’t stop the tears. ~~Nothing would stop those.~~

 

“Scott?” she yelled back. “What color is my hair?” she demanded of the boy as he pulled open the heavy iron door. He shook his head a couple times. Blinked. Blinked. Blinked. Groaned. Sighed.  “Scott!” she yelled. “What color is my hair?”

 

His voice cracked. “I can’t—I can’t—see it.” He pushed past the sick Stiles and ran. The speed sent a force of wind back. It knocked Stiles against the wall. Lydia was quick to catch him and start out of the labyrinth his doppelgänger had left her in.

 

The voices grew louder. The screams. _But the pain_. She had felt the pain all day. She had anticipated the pain. Instead it was a short burst before she doubled over.

 

“ _ALLISON,”_ the name echoed loudly in the long hallway.

 

Lydia would have felt her pain. Lydia would go through the pain a hundred times over so she didn’t have to feel this helpless. She’d gladly take Allison’s pain over her own. She’d gladly take Allison’s place over her own.

 

\--

 

The sheriff’s office was cold. It was cold and silent. The worst was the silence. Lydia would have given anything for silence. She’d do anything to shut off the voices. To tell them that she couldn’t court death anymore. _She couldn’t. She couldn’t. She couldn’t._ But this silence was deafening. This silence left rocks piling in her stomach. It left her eyes feeling raw. Left her cheeks feeling sore. Her chest couldn’t handle breathing anymore. The pain was too intense.

 

She watched Scott. His body unbelievably still, his mouth open. His face lost. Lydia felt her hand wrap around his without a thought he gripped tight. _Always trying to be strong._

She heard the other deputy’s make their way to the station. So many witnesses. So many statements. So many kids. So many broken kids. This war, a war Lydia joined willingly, had casualties. She knew this. She wanted to accept it. She wanted—she’d never, but she’d try. Other people were going to die.

 

Allison knew that. Allison fought knowing her odds. Allison was strong. Allison was brave.

_Knew. Fought. Was._

 

_If werewolves exist, ghosts have to exist. If banshees see death, banshees can see ghosts._ Lydia tried to reason with herself. She tried to bring herself to be strong.

 

“Lydia Martin?” the voice was sweet like morning. It was welcoming. _It was her turn to relieve a nightmare._

 

But she couldn’t. Tears flooded her damp face. The makeup that was caked on flowed onto her lap. She couldn’t handle it. She wasn’t built for this. She wasn’t a fighter. _Not like Allison._

 

“Lydia? Your hair.” the sweet voice said in a hushed tone leaning down to her. “It’s red and impossible.” 

 

She felt a lump in her throat. She felt her body convulse. She held her gaze down. Her eyes clamped shut. _“Your hair is red. Bright red. It’s beautiful.”_ She heard Allison’s voice: the sweet excitement of seeing in color, the joy of sharing the secret with another, and the miraculous gift from the Gods. Allison’s voice told her what her bright red hair meant.

 

She craned her neck forward. She took a deep breath. Another. And another. Fluttered her eyelids. _Be strong. Be brave._

Her eyes met beautiful green orbs, the light of them saving the butterflies from serpents. The world was brighter. It was a world of color.

 

It was—it was—it was _beautiful._

 

Scott’s eyes fell to her. His hand squeezed, begged for an answer. She just looked at him in a sad expression.

 

His loss hit her harder then before. It drove through her heart. _He lost this. It’s cruel. It’s—impossible._

“Who are you?” She asked her voice shook. 

 

“Deputy Parrish.” He tried to reassert his authority. He tried, “Jordan.” He said in the sweet voice that called to her again. “My name is Jordan and I want to help you.”


End file.
